


Progressive Restriction

by KitchyKitty



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Non-Consensual Tickling, Predicament Bondage, Sleep Deprivation, Tickling, like really cruel tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 04:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitchyKitty/pseuds/KitchyKitty
Summary: Flowey takes a rare opportunity to test Sans's limits.





	Progressive Restriction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yoshachu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoshachu/gifts).



Sans was looking rather thoughtful for someone who had just been bested by a plant — too calm for a monster who surely presumed he would soon be nothing more than dust. After all, the bullets that encircled him were for more than just show. “it’s you, isn’t it?” he finally concluded, not for the first time they had met. “you’re the anomaly.”

Seeing his hard-won prize twisted up in his thorny grasp gave Flowey a sense of accomplishment. It was nice; almost like a ghost of an emotion of which he desperately missed.

It had taken a lot of time and nudging people in just the right directions to lull the skeleton into enough of a false sense of security to capture him. It seemed the best way to catch him off guard was to make the residents of the underground feel safe and happy — killing anyone just put the skeleton on high alert, while killing everyone usually resulted in a RESET forced by his bony hands.

Flowey’s face warped into a sharp grin. “Not that you’ll remember. You’ll be dead before you can write about it in that magic basement of yours.”

For a moment, Sans’s pupils flickered as if he were dazed, but then he chuckled and shrugged as much as he could manage. “ah. guess you’ve been doing some research of your own. well, if you really want to get mixed up in my affairs, i guess it’s _no skin_ off my backbone. heh, get it? ‘cause skeletons don’t have skin.”

The feeling of accomplishment began to evaporate, leaving a hollow void in which prickles of irritation soon filled. “It’s not funny if you explain it, idiot. Why do you insist on making such stupid puns?” the flower demanded, more inquisitive than upset, though still giving the skeleton a jarring shake.

Sans lightly grunted, briefly tugging on his wrist to alleviate some of the growing stress on his shoulder. “heh. i guess you were hoping to see me _rattled_. sorry to disappoint.” Eye sockets closing, he sighed. “besides, it doesn’t really matter if i die right now, does it? like you said, i won’t remember, and i know you’re not done playing around with timelines.” Returning his gaze to the flower, his grin seemed to widen. “my philosophy is to appreciate the _vine_ -r things in life. and seeing as i’m just _hanging around_ with my soon-to-be-murderer at the moment, the best i can do is focus on the _humerus_ side of things.”

“Golly, you really are a hopeless bag of trash, aren’t you?”  
“hey, wanna hear another joke? it’s a real _killer_.”  
“No—”  
“oh wait, joke’s on you. or rather _is_ you.”  
“…You honestly think you’re hilarious don’t you?”  
“what can I say, i’m just made up of _funny bones_.”

Flowey hadn’t known what to expect from this encounter, but he’d at least hoped to see the older of the two skeletons get shaken up for once. In timelines where he’d kill Papyrus, Flowey was never able to witness any true reaction from Sans who would make himself too scarce to find. It left him _so_ intrigued.

“Well, ‘funny bones’, after I’m done with you, do you know what I’m gonna do?” Flowey leaned up close to Sans’ face. “I’ll go after that gullible brother of yours.”

It didn’t seem possible for Sans to become even more still than he already was, but somehow he managed, his voice a bit more quiet. “…stay away from him.” Though his grin was ever resilient, the skeleton’s eyes conveyed a distinct sense of tension.

Flowey gleefully jumped on the opportunity. “What’s wrong? I thought it didn’t matter if anyone dies, right?”

“…he doesn’t know that. not exactly. not like i do.” Suddenly, his eyes went dark, voice raised threateningly and tone formal.

“A n d   I   w o n ’ t   l e t   h i m   f i n d   o u t.”

A large, bulky skull with a beastly maw loomed into existence from the shadows.

Responding in kind, Flowey tightened the ring of bullets around Sans’ trapped form. “You idiot. I can dodge, but you can’t. And I don’t think that would go over too well for someone as fragile as you, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before his words had completely finished, thick white beams of light exploded from several directions in quick succession. Flowey’s petals ruffled as he ducked underground, only resurfacing when the thunderous crackling dwindled to echoes. “I told you.”

Seeming to calm down, but not back down, Sans chuckled humorlessly, the white, pinprick pupils returned to his eyes. More blasts fired.

While hiding himself from taking damage, Flowey decided enough was enough. Tightening the vines around the skeleton’s ribs, he waited until he heard the blasters beginning to falter, feeling boney fingers dig sharply into the constricting plant matter as the rest of him yielded. 

“Are you finally realizing you can’t get out of this?” Flowey drew himself up, leering at Sans once more. “C’mon, just try! Struggle for me.”

Sans merely stared back, expression blank. Flowey hadn’t yet relaxed the hold on his ribs and it was apparent that the skeleton’s occasional quivers were ones of pain, even though he wouldn’t give voice to it.

Despite this, Sans mustered a wry chuckle. “why doncha just _leaf_ me alone, huh?”

Flowey softly giggled, but not at the pun. “You know I have no intention of doing that.”

The skeleton closed his eyes, resignation slowly seeping into his posture and voice, “…‘s why I’m not dead yet … right, buddy?”

“Gosh, well, you’ve always been the cleverer one!”

Flowey could feel it again; the desperate rooting around for a SOUL that didn’t exist. It was one of the first — and last — things Sans had done right before Flowey cornered and grabbed him. In every other timeline, Sans had seemed perplexed as to why his blue magic didn’t work on him, but he had always had time to improvise. This time, Flowey had made sure not to give him any. “But you’re still an idiot,” he concluded.

*

Failing to find anything yet again, Sans succumbed to his usual method of simply no longer trying. Giving up was always the easiest solution to impossible problems. Besides, whatever the anomaly had in store for him should be relatively quick from his own perspective, and then, even the last moment would be forgotten in due course, save for inevitable nightmares where his lost memories usually lurked. All he had to do was let this happen and he’d wake up screaming and Papyrus would be there in an instant and—

“Hey, bonehead, I’m talking to you! Are you even listening?”

If anything, his fragile health could be considered a blessing for once. Any serious damage and he’d promptly be un-tormentable powder. No matter how many times it took for the creature to get bored of him, any real suffering would be short lived.

“Trying to check out, huh?”

Pretty. The walls of the Snowdin cave around them glittered with frost that reminded him of pictures of stars. At least he’d be able to appreciate a nice view—

The flower shoved himself up against Sans’s face. “I’m going to push your limits, Sansy. We’re going to find out JUST how much you can stand! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“ghh—! hh….” He closed his sockets. If he concentrated, he could just make out a scent akin to rotting fruit from the older, dying luminous mushrooms over the smell of buttercups.

“So don’t worry about dusting anytime soon, friend. I was just playing around with you about all that death stuff. You’re not the easiest to catch, so I’m really going to take my time with you!”

With a mischievous giggle that tinged with true wickedness, the creature lowered him to the ground and backed away, even withdrawing all of his vines save for a single one that looped tightly around Sans’s left ankle.

Sans had braced himself during the descent, but was left dazed and perplexed by the flower’s actions, giving his ankle a brief tug to see if it was truly trapped. It certainly was, of course. But, if he could lift it _just_ enough, he’d be able to escape whatever power was blocking his ability to teleport free. Sitting and leaning forward with a wary glance around him, he grasped the vine, trying to pry it up and off, but the organic restraint was about as unbudging as Papyrus’s nagging stance to clean up his room — not that he was any less stubborn about ignoring his brother on the matter.

Then, suddenly, in the peripheral of his vision, he caught movement, quickly realizing it was another tendril — and it was snaking slowly right toward his bound foot. Before he could even form a thought, it suddenly lashed forward and he heavily flinched at the violent movement in a reflexive, failed dodge, but then his own foot jerked just as violently and he let out a breathy snort that mingled with a squeak. The very tip of the vine had merely flicked up the length of his bony sole, leaving tingles in its wake.

Magic flared hotly in his cheeks, and a hand flew up to cover his mouth. This was _not_ the flavor of torture he had been expecting.

Only his little brother had ever found out he was unbearably ticklish to an embarrassing degree, and it was far from a pleasant surprise having a complete stranger inflict it on him out of nowhere. Another quick stroke proved the first hadn’t been merely a fluke. “khh-hh! …hey, buddy, when i said i was made up of funny bones, this isn’t exactly what i was gettin’ at….”

“Hehe, are you actually complaining? Is this really worse than pain?” The SOULless creature’s voice bounced off the walls, seemingly without a point of origin.

Well. This wouldn’t kill him. And right now, that wasn’t ideal. Not that Sans was going to say that of course.

*

Flowey took his silence as an invitation to begin a more persistent trail from heel to toes and back. It seemed his victim was trying to make up for the initial reaction he’d given by staying as still and aloof as possible.

Well, that was no fun.

A few pokes under the diminutive toes were rewarded with a twitch of the phalanges and tensing of the ankle, a subtle bowing of the skull. Twisting a tendril tip between a pair of the smaller of appendages, now, that got him something even better!

“khhg—! eheh! gheh-hnn—!” Was he actually trying to hide his expression? It wasn’t like it would change all that much with that ridiculous, perpetual grin of his. Fingers once again curled around the thick root holding the ankle captive, but there was no give or slack to be found — even a summoned bone bullet couldn’t wedge its way through.

That didn’t mean Flowey was going to let him keep trying. Smacking the meager attack away, soaking up the pitiful amount of damage, he snared Sans’s right wrist, forcing the arm behind the skeleton’s back. There was a brief quickening of breath that trembled through the foliage. Perhaps the trashbag was shakable after all.

Content to explore a little, Flowey lightly skated and poked over the prominent rib bones, only to abruptly withdraw when Sans batted at him with his free hand.

“a-aha-hnn—! th-this isn’t exactly what i think a _rib-ticklin’_ experience is supposed to be, pal….”

“Well you should. It’s only, you know, the literal definition,” Flowey snarked back at him, hovering and wiggling the vine around the ribcage as if teasing a kitten. It was quite apparent the small skeleton had grown too reliant on dodging out of harm’s way, his leaning and twisting accompanied by harsh tugs, and his blocking game was rather off in the way he seemed to squeeze his arm inward to make himself smaller instead of confidently rebuffing against the tendril.

Taking the opportunity to drop a vine behind him, Flowey zipped it up the preoccupied monster’s spine, grinning at the muffled yelp and arched backbone. It was also quite amusing to see the lone, free arm stalling and jerking in confusion about which side to protect. “Golly, you’re awfully restless there friend, but I think I know what can get you to relax.” The vine at Sans’s back ‘helpfully’ grabbed and guided the other wrist against the bound one, pulling in opposite directions until they were tightly crossed over each other. All the while, the first tendril freely outlined the protruding bones over his shirt.

“hh—! nnh—! …nn, g-get … get off me….”

It was said so … _timidly_ , Flowey almost thought he’d imagined it, but Sans was actually looking at him again with a perturbed squint to his sockets of the like he’d never seen. And, well, new was always interesting! Who knew the prospect of being forced to laugh would suck the humor out of the goofy garbage bag?

He pressed the offending vine against the skeleton’s cheek. “What was that, friend? Not that I really want to hear your trashy voice, but you’re going to have to speak up.”

*

Sans was several levels of uncomfortable with his current predicament, but he still tried to mask his anxiety with his anger. “G e t. O f f. M—mmeeheee—!?”

So much for that.

Head tilting back automatically, he rolled his skull side to side against hunched shoulders, fighting the tendril that relentlessly twisted at his nape. “gghh-hh…! h-hhnn—!”

“Wow, I can’t take you seriously at all like this, hehee!” The flower’s smile looked almost innocently genuine, like a child playing a game. “Why are you fighting this so much? You used to make me laugh before all your jokes got so stale, I’m just trying to return the favor.”

More gentle touches against his ribs spurred yet another defensive twist away as much as he tried to keep control. Having his hands literally tied in such an odd position was putting him on edge more than anything, leaving him to wriggle humiliatingly like a worm. But even worms could claim more dignity than he felt at the moment, being _tickled by a flower_.

And then, suddenly, the restrictive vines gave a commandingly sharp tug down, and Sans wheezed as his shoulders thudded against the ground. Another tendril snaked over his sternum to keep him there.

It was the position, mostly, that cracked him. Hands pinned helplessly beneath him, he could barely see the glittering ceiling for all the ever-shifting plant matter that dangled threateningly above. “hh—! hh! nn! d-don’t do this…!” He didn’t _want_ to be tortured. Stars, what a stupid thought; of course _no one_ would want that.

But now it sat there in his mind, all too real. This was all too real and he didn’t want this and he couldn’t stop this, he couldn’t distract himself anymore—

—Not when what felt like dozens of spindly fingers softly jabbed and stroked at his ribs. Especially not when they weaved between the cage to inquisitively tease the inner surfaces.

“hgghh—! haa—! ahaaa! hahahaaa!” A wild grin stretched across his countenance against his will, the heel of his loose foot scraping uselessly against the cavern floor before his knee bent and kicked out in frustration. “naahaaaa! ahahaa! gghh—haahaahaaa!”

Now that it had gotten him steadily laughing, the flower stayed unsettlingly quiet as it reigned in a majority of the vines and prodded around his torso, hunting down the spots that ramped up his reflexes.

“hnnnn—…! hhahahaaa! gh-hh…. hh! a-aaha! …—hkk—! eeh _eeaahaaaa_ —!” _Crrkk!_ Phantom pain ached for the briefest of moments in the back of his skull as he threw his head toward the ground, but a thick, leafy vine had slithered just beneath it, cushioning the blow. After a disoriented gasp of breath, he resumed squealing, absolutely mortified that just a little poking in the grooves between ribs and spine could force him to produce such a sound.

“Careful there, friend, don’t hurt yourself.” 

He almost wished he could, just to offset the maddening sensation continuing to flare in the delicate crevices of his spinal column.

Movement at his trapped foot set him twitching with quickened breaths, and in his coerced field of view he could just make out wiry, green sprigs coiling around his toes. The tinier tendrils stretched and immobilized the phalanges tautly, more creeping up his sole to poke and scratch between them.

Sans jolted with a squeak, immediately attacking his own foot with the other, every wild scrape a hope for relief or release.

“If you keep that up, I’m grabbing the other one too.”

*

Flowey watched as the skeleton tipped his skull back with something that sounded refreshingly close to a whine. At least Smiley seemed to be listening, he noted, pleased to see the free leg kick away. “Heehee, there you go.” He poked around a little more, just to keep his victim busy while he warmed up his magic.

Once, long ago now, he’d had the gift of healing, inherited from his parents. In this form, accelerated growth seemed to be the closest substitute, shedding away the damaged areas while new, magic-infused cells took their place. With lots of cuts and tears to mend through countless timelines, he had enough practice to purposefully cultivate his organic body as he saw fit, and as he now set to do.

Between the skeleton’s toes, tiny, budded stems sprouted up from the sprigs; little, golden flowers blooming at an unnaturally rapid rate. The fragile petals gently swayed in the spaces, brushing kisses along the sides of the vulnerable phalanges.

“nnhn! hehh! ehehee—kkh! eheh! heeheh! heehee!”

Flowey could feel the entire leg trying to jump, the toes doing their best to dance away. He grinned. _Biiiiiiiiiiig_ mistake!

Triggered by the tremoring jolts, puffs of pollen burst from the flowers, billowing softly over the diminutive bones.

“hhkk—! kkhh—heheeehee _eeee_ —! aahaaa! ha _aaa_ haa! haeeheeaahaah _aaa_! o-oh, no, stahappit! i-it _itches_! g-get it, ahaa, ahahff! stop!” Sans’s sockets were wide and staring, and his whole body strained fruitlessly in the effort to curl his afflicted toes.

“You don’t like that, huh? Well, then, you might want to stop moving, friend!”

“h-hnn—! hh! gghehhhnnn…!” Those eyes went from impossibly large to tightly squeezed shut in an instant. Flowey could never understand how the bone seemed so flexible at the sockets. It certainly didn’t feel any different from the rest of the skull. He prodded at the area just to make sure, earning a startled flinch, the movement apparently sending a shockwave all the way down to Sans’s feet. “hh-ahh—! hahaa! eehhee! haaaha… nnhnngh….”

“I could grow more of them, you know.”  
“….”  
“I know the perfect spot too! Your ribs make a good trellis, don’t you think?”  
“…nn-no!”  
“Hmmm, those clothes will probably get in the way though. Let’s fix that real quick!”  
“no … no….”

*

Sans was starting to feel like a posable doll — the sort of kind found in the dump, already a bit haggard, that could unexpectedly fall to pieces at the slightest strain. It was actually kind of impressive to what extent his arms could be manipulated into bending and twisting as the flower forced him out of his jacket and shirt.

Once the comforting garments were tossed away, he was returned to a supine position, this time arms stretched above his head. Unfairly enough, now he was given enough slack to struggle, even as tendrils slithered up his spine, winding loosely around the thickest parts of his ribs, and literal bunches of flowers blossomed in the spaces between. “hh—! hh, this … this is n-not _bouquet_ …! kkgh—!”

“…Are you serious? Are you really still joking? Really?”  
“nh-hnn….”  
“Because that was completely terrible. _You’re_ completely terrible.”

Breathing wasn’t supposed to tickle. Stars, even shallow inhales felt restrictive and wrong, dozens to hundreds of overlapping petals at a time dizzying him with their velvety touch. Enclosed in a cage of stems, his SOUL trembled at the thought of what just one jostle would set off.

“Now, then, let’s see what you’re made of.”

Something was stroking along his feet again, and now his spine, unbearably light and slow and soft.

Sans had to vent — _had_ to — and shutting down his reflexes was a different torture altogether. Holding back for even a few seconds when he had the room to tug and flail was a misery he’d never even imagined having to be faced with. There was only really one outlet for relief left to him, and so he wailed, loud and exasperated, the sound bouncing back to him from the cavern walls.

His dignity was something he’d gladly sacrifice for someone to hear him now. To save him.

Screaming, even if it was dissolving to laughter, was sort of therapeutic. Maybe there really was something to Papyrus’s over-the-top-yell-talking that left his brother so positive all the time.

Ultimately, he couldn’t keep it up forever. Maybe he would have lasted just a little longer if the creature didn’t start impatiently prodding at the sensitive spots of his torso it had discovered before. With all his willpower chipped away, his reflexes kicked in hard like a spring-loaded hammer. The vines actually had to tug him back down from the half-curl he’d managed. And all at once, the air grew hazy with pollen, literally tickling all of his senses as it rained down and settled softly from head to toe.

“naaahaaahaaa—gghhkk—! h-hahahaaa! nahaa, stop mahaahaake it staah _aaaaaa_ p! ahaa, gaaahaaa—!” There was no way to stop struggling now, once he’d started, only provoking the flowers into producing more itchy, yellow dust in an endless loop, on and on, and on and on until his mind fuzzed and grew spotty and black.

“Hehee, intense, huh? I guess even I have to admit I’m surprised you held out as long as you did, though I really shouldn’t be. You’re such a lump all the time, not moving must be pretty easy for you.” As the anomaly prattled on — not that Sans was really listening — the foliage and flowers mercifully retracted from his rib bones.

For a moment, Sans was too dizzy to realize it had really stopped. But then again, with the persistent tingles that irritably lingered, it hardly felt like a break. He groaned as his body slumped and twitched.

At some point during the onslaught, his other ankle must have been grabbed, as now he felt both legs lifting ceilingward. At the same time, something slipped under his back and arms, pushing him up until he was supported into a ‘v’ position.

Exposed as they were now, Sans shouldn’t have been surprised at the tendril tips worming and digging in the backs of his knees, but he jumped with a startled yelp, tugging on his legs. There seemed to be enough leeway in his restraints to allow the momentum to shift his weight, and he tipped backward, away from the knee torture.

Falling straight into the waiting vines at his back.

“aahaaeeeheeheee—gghkh—! h _eea_ ahahaa!” Sans couldn’t tell if the creature was using petals or leaves, or maybe found a stray feather, but whatever soft thing was flitting between his vertebrae was utterly unbearable. Unfortunately, now, all of his struggling and rocking wasn’t enough to tilt him forward again, and his squealing was quickly becoming helplessly frantic.

“Heheee…. Did you get stuck, friend? Do you need my help?”

Humiliation smoldered in his chest, the teasing questions reminding him he had an audience to his every undignified squeak. He shook his head.

“I can give you a little push! Golly, it would be so easy. All you need to do is ask!”

Sans continued to try on his own, but there just didn’t seem to be enough leverage for him to use. The flower was probably cheating. “ _nn_ —aahaaa! eehehee—kkh! heheee! o-okay, okay, h-hehelp me up!”

What did it matter, really, to give up everything at this point? The fact that the anomaly existed in the first place was testament to the fact nothing mattered anyway. The sooner it wrung whatever outcome it wanted from him, the sooner it would be satisfied and leave him alone.

_And move onto Papyrus_ his mind chided him.

“There you are!” A quick shove sent him back into his original positioning for whatever this ‘game’ was. It wasn’t nearly as shocking this time when tendrils began twisting under his knees again. “I might not be so generous next time, though.”

“aahaaa! hahaa! gaahaa…! hnn—nahahaa! _nnngh_!” Clenching his fists, he locked his arms and legs in a self-willed stiffness, the forced posture feeling much too precarious knowing what lay in store behind. It didn’t take long for his limbs to start quaking from exertion, sweat beading at his temples. But this was far more endurable, he had to keep telling himself.

Jolting at a touch to his feet — more sensitive than ever with the light coating of pollen — he squeakily grunted, finding himself back at the tipping point. Even a violent enough shiver would upset the balance. Still going at his knees, the vines started a relentless tracing over his petite, bony soles. He didn’t dare to breathe.

Sockets tightly shut, Sans desperately reached for the deepest of his mental fortitude, detaching himself from the sensation. It started with his hands, of which he actually had great control over, fingers relaxing without a hint of a tremble. Able to compartmentalize the maddening torment to somewhere less focused, calmness stilled his bones until his breaths returned to him, slow and steady.

He didn’t feel the presence by his skull until it was too late. “Tickle tickle tiiiiickle,” the flower cooed in his ear. “Tickle tickle tickle! Hehe, it tiiiickles, doesn’t it?”

_no no no nonoNONO! Stars, no!_

Why was it so easy for one stupid word to completely unravel the defensive barriers he’d carefully weaved? He didn’t have even another second to lament though as giggles bubbled out and shook his shoulders, and he tumbled right back into the crueler treatment. “aaaiieeaahaa—! n-no! haahaa! haa-hehelp me! ghheheehee—! l-let me bahack up!” he implored immediately this time.

“Hmmmm….. Golly, I don’t know, friend. We’re not doing this to go easy on you.”  
“ggh—! aahaaa, it t-tihickles either wahayhee! lemme up!”  
“It seems much worse this way though, doesn’t it? I wonder what makes these grooves so sensitive?”

Maybe the fact nothing’s supposed to _be wedged in them!_ But of course he wouldn’t say it out loud. Not that he really could anyway with the soft implement swishing even deeper, prying up squeals that left him breathless for anything else.

Sans lost track of time after a few minutes of unproductive thrashing, spikes of ticklish agony shooting through his spine and nearly flaring into his ribs until he was the closest thing to shrieking he’d ever been in his life. What sounded like a frantic cry of his name and rapid thumps of heavy boots on stone pulled him from the brink of being swallowed into desperate madness.

*

Drat. How could he be looking for his brother so soon? Flowey rolled his eyes before LOADing to the last minute. It was a good thing he was SAVEscumming this encounter fairly obsessively. Withdrawing from the frenzied skeleton, he afforded him twenty seconds to calm down and catch his breath, then pressed a vine against the tremoring teeth. “Not a word — not a _sound_ — unless you want some company joining you,” he warned, then hauled his victim up to the ceiling and wrapped him there, a thick vine covering his mouth for good measure.

Papyrus didn’t seem quite so agitated this time. Good; he must not have heard.

“Oh, Flowey! I’m so glad I ran into you! Not literally, of course, I wouldn’t want to trample you!”

“Hehehe, I know it, friend!” Flowey put on his most delighted smile. “What brings you here, Papyrus? It doesn’t sound like you were looking for little old me…?”

“Well, no, actually I was looking for Sans.” The taller skeleton’s smile seemed to waver the slightest bit, though his expression quickly conveyed annoyance before it could turn into anything sad. “We were supposed to be on our way to a party half an hour ago, and he KNOWS I wanted to be fashionably early!”

“A party, huh? Maybe he misunderstood and thought you wanted to be fashionably late?”  
“IMPOSSIBLE! Lateness is the furthest thing from good fashion standards as I have explained to him MANY times!”  
“Hmmm, well, I don’t know then, friend. Perhaps he just got roped into something else at the last minute?”

Papyrus softly sighed, seeming to deflate as much as the basketballs he sometimes wore as he sat down beside Flowey, drawing his lanky arms up around his knees. “…I was really looking forward to it, too. It’s over at Undyne’s house, and Sans said he wanted all his friends to get to know me better so that I’d have more people to talk to….”

_Drip … drip…._

Flowey nodded patiently. “It sounds like it was probably important to him too. Hey! Maybe he left _super_ early and is already there to be extra fashionable!”

“…You think so? But, why would he leave without me? He said he just had a short errand and that he’d be back so we could go together. I know he keeps a lot of secrets, but he wouldn’t lie to me … he wouldn’t … right, Flowey?”

_Drip drip … drop…._

Flowey shook himself out of a momentary distraction. “You know your brother best. …And, well, if you have doubts, then, maybe there’s something to them. You’ve got to trust your instincts, right Papyrus?” When had this cave gotten so drippy?

Then it clicked.

_Ohh_ …. Flowey had to fight the urges to grin or look up.

Papyrus huddled up a little more, looking down at the cavern’s floor. “…Sans is a good brother. Even if he’s lazy and messy and pulls a few too many pranks, I still trust him. Maybe he had a very good reason to go without me.” He hopped up very suddenly, all traces of vulnerability gone in an instant. “And it is up to the GREAT AND SLEUTHING PAPYRUS to FIND OUT! Once I find him at the party, I shall cajole the TRUTH out of him!”

“Hehehe, that’s the spirit! Oh, hey! Remember when you told me how ticklish he is? I bet that’s a great interrogation method to use!”

The younger skeleton snickered a bit. “Nyeh heh! That’s a good idea, thanks Flowey. …Thank you.”

Flowey knew exactly what his additional gratitude meant. It was almost a shame he couldn’t feel anything for the lonely skeleton monster or he’d at least have someone to truly empathize with. “Of course! You know I’m always happy to listen to you, friend! Now go enjoy your party.”

After waving the monster off, Flowey SAVEd and waited a minute just to make sure he was out of earshot. The interruption had been so worth it to see the pitiful tears streaming down the garbage bag’s cheeks as he lowered his captive back to the ground again. “I’ll bet that was a nice break for you, wasn’t it? I hope you took advantage of it because it’s the last one you’re getting for a long time.”

Sans sniffled, not looking at him. Not really looking at anything.

That was fine. If trashy didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to anyway. After binding him up in a cushy, cradled position, Flowey proceeded to tickle him for the next four hours straight.

It wasn’t all that harsh for the majority of it. In fact, well over half was just a gentle, exploratory knismesis meant to keep the skeleton squirming and giggling. He only ramped up the intensity a few notches here and there to break up the monotony of it — and perhaps try to speed up the process somewhat. Because, finally, Sans began to truly wear out, and _that_ was the point Flowey was curious to reach.

Being especially careful with his SAVEstates, Flowey only had to reload six times from Sans tapering into unconsciousness. And each time, he LOADed and lightened up until it seemed safe enough to press him again.

It was hardly shocking, then, after being driven so gruelingly to the brink again and again without respite that Sans was a sobbing, babbling mess by the third hour.

“h-ha _aa_ …. whyhee…. ahaaa, wh’t’ve i done…? hh-nhnh….”  
“…”  
“wh-whatever ‘t is, nhnn, i’ll mahake it right…. ‘nythin’ ya want, aaha…. a-always’ve tried t’ do good….”  
“Anything I want? Yeah right. Don’t make promises you won’t keep.”  
“ggh-hnn, n-nehever liked prom’ses ‘nyway … aaha…. d-did i br-break one, izzat why’m h-here…?”  
“Shh, shh, friend, I think you’re really getting loopy now. You’re very sleepy, aren’t you?”  
“a’heem saa-sorry, h-hh…. lemme sleep, plehease … pl-please….”  
“We’ll see.”

The seventh instance that Sans fell unconscious, he stayed that way, even if Flowey tried backing off completely, the skeleton was simply too exhausted to keep awake.

*

Sans whined as insistent tingles along his sternum jarred him to rousing, his voice hoarsely muted. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Didn’t want to see what he could already feel. That he was still trapped and the plaything of some creature determined to drag him through hell.

“Oh good, you woke up! That must mean you’re ready for more fun!”

Sans sobbed his sockets out before he could even begin laughing again.

It was like an endless, tumbling nightmare. The periods the flower allowed him to sleep were either too short or he was too stressed to dream anything other than his predicament. Or maybe even ‘Flowey’ continued to tickle him while he was out. He wasn’t a stranger to dreams that felt all-too-real, but the lines between reality and whatever his feverish mind cooked up were beginning to blur. The taste of crabapple lingered in his mouth, but he could barely recall being fed.

At one point, Papyrus visited again, bawling distraughtly that Sans had been missing for over a day. The ceiling hardly felt any different from the floor at this point, he was just far too dizzy to care about the orientation. And this time, the creature refused to leave him alone, poking at his toes while he could only watch his brother cry. Could only silently hiccup and tremble with laughter while his tormentor comforted Papyrus and assured that he’d keep on the lookout.

Sans didn’t know how long it had been since he was back on the ground or when the tingles finally started to fade. How long had anything stopped prodding or stroking or tracing? When did his arms get loose? They still felt much too heavy to lift, though. Stars, he just wanted to sleep.

“Hey! Hey, funny bones, are you listening?”

“n-nn?” Reluctantly cracking open his sockets, Sans stared up at the creature, trying to focus. Such a disturbing smile, just as fake as his own. Even after all this, the anomaly wasn’t happy. Wasn’t satisfied. Would this ever end? Not that he’d been looking forward to the actual conclusion this timeline would reach for him, but this was something he’d be okay with not remembering.

“I said I’m letting you go!”

Well, that was certainly unexpected. “… …th-thought you … w-were gonna dust me…?” he questioned, voice almost too worn out from his hours of venting.

“I want to find out how long this has broken you for,” the flower replied bluntly in its sickeningly cheerful manner. “I’m going to keep a _very_ close eye on you. And if you tell _anyone_ or even take two steps near your little lab, I’m going to reLOAD to where I’ve caught you and do this again. But for a whole week!”

Sans slowly lowered his head, sliding his hands up over his eyes.

‘Flowey’ seemed to take this as an acceptable answer, giggling as he finally, fully untwined himself from Sans’s bones, disappearing beneath the ground, somehow not even leaving a trace.

Shuddering as he sat, Sans remained as unmoving as he’d been forced to be, the new threat and conditions leaving him feeling more restricted than he’d physically been, even. No way to talk through what had happened to him. No way to warn his eventual alternate self of his enemy. Not unless he wanted more of the same.

And he didn’t. Stars beyond, he didn’t want any more.

When he was tired of crying, he pulled on his shirt and crumpled up on top of his jacket, falling asleep.

*

Papyrus trudged back home from Grillby’s for the second time. None of the patrons had seen even a ketchup stain of Sans since two days ago, and he could hardly bear to think what that might possibly mean.

He couldn’t give up, though! Sans was smart and very careful! He would just return home real quick to get a bite of reenergizing spaghetti and then ask one of the Royal Guard dogs to help him search through the woods.

Then, something caught his attention and he stopped, scanning the snowy ground. Slipperprints! Leading to the front door!

Bursting into a sprint, the tall skeleton didn’t even bother to shake off his boots before leaping into the house. “SANS! Sans are you home!?”

A small whimper from the couch answered his question.

Though concerned at his brother’s curled-up form, joy that he was alive and in one piece overrode everything else. “Sans, oh Sans, are you all right? Where have you been?” He knelt down by the couch, getting a closer look, seeing the heavy weariness in his brother’s sockets.

“yeah, bro, ‘m okay … just got lost…,” Sans answered softly, attempting a reassuring smile. It was almost like he _couldn’t_ speak any louder.

“Lost…? But, you know just about everywhere in the Underground, where could you possibly get lost for so long? What happened, Sans?”

“…’ey, don’t worry about it, buddy. i’m just _bone tired_ , heh.”

Papyrus wasn’t buying it — well, the tired part, yes, that was plain enough to see. “All right, brother, you rest while I cook you some healthy pasta. Have you eaten at all since you’ve been gone?”

Sans hesitated, an unnatural, unsure look crossed his face. “uhh, bite or two, i think….”

“Well no wonder you’re so tired! I won’t take very long, Undyne has shown me a new method to heat up the noodles twice as fast!”

“eheh, naw, bro, it’s fine … just make it like normal, i can wait…. … … …i’m sorry ‘bout the party.”

Papyrus couldn’t take another second of the guilt etched on Sans’s face. Reaching out, he scooped him up in a hug and rubbed at his backbone. “All I care about right now is that you’re safe and back home, Sans. We can talk about what happened later.”

“n-nothin’ to tell, really.” Sans clung to him tightly, close enough that Papyrus could feel the subtle tremoring of his bones. _Something_ had happened. Which meant Sans was … lying. “i’m just … sorry.”

Papyrus gently set Sans back on the couch, pulling down the bone-patterned throw blanket to drape over him. “Don’t worry about it, brother. I’ll wake you when the spaghetti is ready, okay?”

“okay…. thanks, pap.”

Papyrus smiled fondly at him, but it faded as he turned toward the kitchen. What had his brother so frightened? What reason would he have to lie? There had to be a way to get to the bottom of this!

And luckily, he thought as he gathered the ingredients, thanks to Flowey’s suggestion he knew just the method to both get the truth and to cheer Sans up in the process.


End file.
